


there's no such thing as orange

by honeydowo



Series: here we stand on opposing sides [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Violence, Broken Families, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Editor Wilbur, Elections, Family Dynamics, Fire, Flashbacks, Hurt No Comfort, Identity Issues, Insanity, Other, Redemption, Running Away, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydowo/pseuds/honeydowo
Summary: Schlatt laughs, a humourless, manic thing, the bloody red of a new-born dawn in his eyes. There's the sureness of a ruler in his gaze, the calculations of a strategizer in his steps.He steps on the podium, all straight back and raised chin, a wild, animalistic thing - the memory of a great flood."Well", he says, "That was pretty easy."
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: here we stand on opposing sides [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902847
Comments: 33
Kudos: 306





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW // Drowning, Implied Death (?) and spoilers for the election!! Also, Schlatt plays a big part in this story, so if he makes you uncomfy i advise you don't read this <3

> _I am drowning_   
>  _There is no sign of land_   
>  _You are coming down with me_   
>  _Hand in unlovable hand_
> 
> _And I hope you die_   
>  _I hope we both die_
> 
> **-No Children, The Mountain Goats**

_Wilbur grins down at Schlatt, a little wild, a little free, a moment picturesque in its beauty._

_Schlatt scowls, a little too exaggerated to be true, and yanks at his tie expectantly._

_"Come on, can't you just start it already?", Schlatt says, and almost like an afterthought adds, "Bitch."_

_"Sure Schlatt.", Wilbur laughs, and the sun reflects in his eyes, stars exploding into colourful bits of nothingness, "Anything for you."_

_\---_

_Wilbur falls to his knees, feels the pebbles dig into his skin and opens his mouth to scream at the sky._

_Water pours from his lips, lungs heaving and fingers desperately yanking at his hair; it's the end and he knows, salt running through his veins and eyes heavy with the promise of tears._

_Behind him, the ocean roars._

_Somewhere, under waves crashing against the shore and land buried beneath water is Schlatt, ever so stubborn, ever so horribly, horribly stubborn, and Wilbur feels like screaming and leaving and jumping into the raging ocean to drag Schlatt out of that stupid house._

_A thunderstorm tears apart the sky behind him._

\---

_"What are you gonna do?", Schlatt asks quietly._

_Wilbur looks up at the night sky, a memory of belonging tearing at his mind, and shrugs._

_"What, right now? Probably continue talking to you"_

_"No, are you actually stupid? I meant when this-", Schlatt gestures around them once, a look of suffocating homesickness pulling at his face, "When this is all over."_

_What a poetic question to ask, Wilbur thinks, and, I wish I could answer it._

_"I dunno. Maybe stay on my own for a while, try to work myself out. Create something I can stand for, y'know?"_

_"Yeah yeah, I know", Schlatt sighs._

_There's something in his eyes then, something Wilbur sees reflected in the moments just before a disaster, and the shiny surface of gold._

_He doesn't ask Schlatt about his dreams._

\--- 

_Wilbur watches Schlatt's face as he falls._

_He wonders, quietly, if his eyes had always been so empty, if the cruel smile on his face has always existed somewhere, or if it's just here and now that he can recognize who Schlatt truly is._

_There's no tears, no remorse, no memory of friendship._

_Wilbur closes his eyes._

_His lungs fill with water._

_He doesn't try to swim back up._

\--- 

The war is over, Tommy thinks.

Around him, L'Manberg takes form, a nation at last, born from blood and sacrifice.

The war is over.

Finally.

And when Niki steps into L'Manberg, the start of spring clinging to her heels, an echo of the summer passing by, there's something wild and untameable in her eyes.

And Tommy knows things are going to change very soon.

\---

Wilbur feels his hands shake.

At the bottom of the podium stands Tommy, looking up to him with hope so boundless in his eyes that Wilbur has to choke back tears.

He looks so young like this, his vice president, in the uniform that never really fit him, stained by blood and dirt and the memory of betrayal. 

He can hear Schlatt move to stand closer to him.

"Reminds me a lot of you, that kid," he says lazily, "A whole lot of hope to be wasted." 

Wilbur grits his teeth. He feels his hands shake- 

_-"We can make it, come on! Schlatt?"_

_"I'm staying here, Wilbur."_

_Water spills through the cracks in the wood._

_"You'll die!" -_

He blinks the salt water out of his eyes and straightens his back, feeling the weight of the water pull at his coat, an afterthought of the past. Yet, Wilbur knows what he must look like - once, statuesque, now, cracked, a statue about to crumble. An old thing, soon to be replaced.

Underneath him, Tommy and Tubbo move their chairs closer to each other.

The clock strikes nine.

Wilbur tears open the envelope-

_-and the ocean beneath gnashes and moans, old and horribly evil, tearing away at their little house and Schlatt's in there, Schlatt's in there and he will drown and the sea doesn't show mercy for anyone and-_

_Wilbur turns his back. The water nips at his feet, an invitation._

_A thunderstorm is coming-_

"Ladies and Gentlemen.", his voice sounds flat, Wilbur thinks. But he's just so, so tired. "Welcome to the first presidential election of our great nation of L'Manberg!"

L'Manberg. The walls behind him stand tall as ever, sanctuary and home.

(And he almost, almost thinks that they're blocking out the sun.)

"Thank you for coming tonight, to experience this… this historical moment - the passing over of the presidency. I have with me the voting results of the four parties: Swag2020, Pog2020, Coconut2020 and…. Schlatt2020." 

The memory of salt water rises in his throat, threatening to suffocate the words tearing at his skin. Wilbur blinks back memories of water and lava and TNT and continues on: 

"In 4th place, with about…. 20,000 votes, is Coconut2020!" 

There's relief painted on Tubbo's face as he looks up at Wilbur, golden and bright like a fresh sunrise. Niki glances at him with a half-smile, a little crooked, a little broken, but just enough to be okay.

"With 16 percent of the votes, coming in 3rd place is… Schlatt2020!" 

Wilbur feels his shoulders sag. There's tension bleeding out of them like a fresh wound, and he glances at the troubled sky with a despondency of someone who has seen what the future might hold.

There's only two parties left.

"In second place, by 30 percent of the popular vote is… Swag2020! Meaning that the winner of the popular vote, by 45%, is Pog2020!" 

Tommy screams something beside him, genuine, youthful happiness flooding his veins and brightening his eyes. Tubbo cheers with him, ever the supportive one, and the world quiets at the sound of their applause.

Wilbur braces himself. Tides pull at the tailcoat of his uniform, an invitation to the great unknown of the sea.

"Two days ago, on the night of the election", he says quietly. No one pays attention. "After the announcement of Schlatt2020 and Coconut2020, Quackity made a deal." 

_The image of a black suit and a red tie, a golden coin flipped into the air, two businessmen turned friends turned … something, an echo of an old conversation._

"Quackity said that - no matter what happens - he would pool Swag2020 votes on with Schlatt2020 votes. Pog2020 got 45 percent of the popular vote, meaning that the coalition government of Schlatt2020 and Swag2020 got 46 percent. Tonight, Tuesday the 22nd of September 2020, Schlatt2020 has been inaugurated." 

There's a great quiet. Even Tommy has fallen speechless, and Wilbur counts the seconds by tides lapping onto his feet.

Then, Schlatt laughs, a humourless, manic thing, the bloody red of a new-born dawn in his eyes. There's the sureness of a ruler in his gaze, the calculations of a strategizer in his steps.

He steps on the podium, all straight back and raised chin, a wild, animalistic thing - the memory of a great flood. 

"Well," he says, "That was pretty easy." 

Wilbur can feel Tommy shake next to him, anger and fear made indistinguishable by the darkness of the night.

_-and above him, Schlatt smiles - cruel, eyes emotionless. He moves his polished black shoe closer to Wilbur's fingers, desperately hanging on the cliff-_

"My first decree as president of L'Manberg is-" 

_-Schlatt pushes his heel onto his fingers with a smile-_

"To revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit!" 

_-he loses grasp of the cliff, and the water swallows him up with unprecedented greed, marble cracked and overflowing with water, once statuesque, now lost to the sea._

Tommy cries out beside him.

\--- 

Tubbo feels the world spin into chaos around him - the vivacity of colours start to blur as voices mix into a single line of monologue, the end of the scene. 

"And I want you to show them the door." 

There's a hand on his shoulder, iron weight, dragging him down - _the ocean is a relentless thing, Wilbur says distantly-_

And he's pushed from the podium, down into the masses, single-file consciousness and the memory of fear.

Tommy watches him from the tree line. Wilbur has taken his hand, dragging him deeper into the void of land outside Dream SMP and Manberg, driven by fear and mocked by friends turned into enemies.

Their eyes meet, and the world fizzles down into blue eyes of laser-sharp awareness. 

A memory of friendship tears at his throat-

_-and Tommy barrels towards him, disks in hand, Dream close on his tail._

_It only takes him a second to make the enderchest, a second longer to be stabbed by Dream, who manages to look slightly disappointed despite the mask._

_Tommy respawns with the glow of victory emanating from his smile and the confidence of a champion._

_"Is this what winning feels like?"-_

_-the air rushes back into his chest after a few hopeless seconds, and Tubbo resurfaces from the gentle waves._

_Above him, Tommy laughs, loud and genuine and free, before Tubbo reaches for his leg to pull him down too-_

_-L'Manberg has secured independence and Tommy stands on the walls, vice president, yet in the fire's glow looking younger than ever, and Tubbo climbs up to join him._

_Smoke rises into the sky, a final goodbye to the past._

_In the distance, someone is singing-_

_-Eret smiles, a heavy, crooked thing as everyone staggers back to safety, a final goodbye._

_"Eret- How could you- We trusted you!"_

_Tubbo holds Tommy back while the other boy thrashes. The pain tears at his insides-_

_-Tubbo watches, with careful delicacy, as a bee rests on Tommy's head. The other is asleep (and for the first time in forever, he looks content), while Tubbo is content to watch the sun fall from the sky. There's nothing a peaceful quiet and the sound of leaves, moved by wind-_

An arrow lodges itself into Tommy's shoulder. He gives Tubbo one last, fearful look, before disappearing into the foliage.

(And later, Tubbo would ask himself, if the fear in Tommy's eyes came only because of him.)

\---- 

Tommy feels the arrow lodge into his arm and takes off, through foliage and undergrowth until the green of the leaves blends in with the darkness of the sky and the world tilts on its axis.

Behind him, Wilbur heaves, ever the one with less stamina- 

His foot catches on a rock and both of them tumble to the ground.

Tommy cries out in pain before Wilbur slaps a hand over his mouth.

There's something wild in his eyes and, Tommy thinks, he looks younger like this: Face obscured by shadow and tainted with mud, blood amplifying the youth carving his face.

"Why don't we just stay here?" Tommy whispers. 

Wilbur laughs, cruel and cold.

"Look what became of us. I was the president! And now we're going to be sleeping on the ground in the forest. It's really funny, isn't it, how the tides change-" 

Tommy shakes his head. There's something horribly old in Wilbur's voice, the echo of an old scar, hiding behind layers of irony. 

He can't expect much of Wilbur tonight.

So Tommy takes out his shovel and starts digging.

\-- 

Wilbur feels cold.

The cave is a dim, deep thing - more of a ravine than anything, stretching into the earth.

Tommy lay asleep next to him, childlike in his dreams, and he watches his chest rise and fall with each beat of a second.

It's horribly quiet.

They have taken off their uniforms and they now lay tangled on the floor.

Wilbur watches them with disdain.

They're nothing but a memory of the past now, a relic of a different time - a better one, it seems, although none of them would've called it that.

An old song echoes in his thoughts, music that can't be heard: _I heard there was a special place…._

Tommy mumbles something in his sleep.

And Wilbur, with hands shaking in the cold, sets their uniforms ablaze, smears the soot on his eyelids, and swears to live up to his name.

\--- 

Fundy wonders distantly if this is what freedom feels like.

It's a dizzying feeling, a sensation that blurs his sight but at the same time highlights every colour in perfect 3D, silhouettes against a bleeding sky of splitting 4k.

His hands shake.

Schlatt smiles at him.

There's a cool distance in those eyes and Fundy thinks of- 

_-the ocean residing in Wilbur's eyes, a thrashing, fighting thing never to be calmed-_

He laughs, maybe a little too loud, maybe a little too wild but Schlatt joins in and it feels good.

And suddenly there's a flint and steel in his hands and a wave blossoming anger in his chest and- 

Niki puts a hand on his shoulder. Reality grinds to a halt. 

"Fundy," she says, and her voice barely carries back to him over the whirlwind in his head, "You don't have to do this." 

Eret stands next to her, smiling pitifully, and he's a traitor, _a traitor,_ **_a traitor-_ **

"I know," Fundy echoes numbly. 

Niki moves to hug him and Fundy sees the ocean in her eyes, always thrashing, always fighting, never to be calmed, and pushes her away. 

Resentment rises into his throat, threatening to spill over and with venom in his voice and fire in his eyes, Fundy says: "I really want to though."

\-- 

L'Manberg's flag burns very easily, Fundy finds. 

All royal colours and dangerous memories on the brink of his consciousness have become nothing but gasoline to the raging inferno beneath him. 

The fire reflects in his eyes, a single, wild thing, the memory of a world turned to ash as much as a warning, screamed into the sky by smoke:

 _I'm not your son anymore_.

\---

It's strangely familiar, the expanse of white before him.

Wilbur remembers a time when there were different kingdoms, different wars - always the same people though, moved from place to place like pawns on a chessboard.

He remembers Newfoundland like one remembers the sting of an old wound, remembers the person he used to be with a hatred reserved only for himself.

Most importantly, he remembers Technoblade.

The Antarctic Empire is a cold thing, palace carved out of ice and snow, inching ever closer to the heart of the mountain.

Wilbur watches the delicate ornaments carved into the walls, telling stories of wars won centuries ago, treaties signed by versions of themselves that are long gone.

And when the time comes, he kneels before the ice throne.

"Techno", he says, voice hoarse from screaming into the sky, "We need your help."

Red eyes lock with his.

"Did someone say… revolution?" 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno joins Pogtopia.  
> Life goes downhill.

> _And you were beautiful and vulnerable and power and success_   
>  _God damn, I fell for you_
> 
> _I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true_   
>  _I wanted to be you and do what you do_
> 
> _And the real tragеdy is half of it was true_
> 
> _-_ **Rät, Penelope Scott**

_ Schlatt is-  _

_ He meets Wilbur when-  _

_ No, no that doesn't sound right. _

_ Schlatt spawns into existence sometime-  _

_ Too far back, now.  _

_ Schlatt has known Wilbur for a very long time: They survive the falling TNT and the rising lava and the insanity that is the entirety of SMP Live and- and…  _

_ Schlatt admires Wilbur and Wilbur just wants to be a little like Schlatt and so they become friends, somewhat. _

_ Wilbur is beauty and vulnerability and Schlatt is power and success and they both just wish they were more like the other, just a little more likeable. _

_ It's a little tragic, in hindsight, a little unhealthy, the way they clung to each other.  _

_ They are inseparable, one being of quiet, blue anger and breaths of desperation mingling in the hot air. _

_ Schlatt pushes Wilbur off the cliff. _

_ Wilbur goes to start an empire. _

_ They don't see each other again. _

_ \---  _

_ Well, that's not quite true now, is it, because they do see each other again. _

_ Wilbur is so soft, always so soft and Schlatt feels like a natural disaster next to him, a wreck of loud voice and angry eyes and flailing limbs, somewhere in the abyss. _

_ Wilbur talks and talks and talks and Schlatt listens but he never speaks himself because-  _

_ - _ **_i built you up too much, now i can't say what's on my mind in case i go and scare you away-_ **

_ Songs linger, off-key and echoing, somewhere in the distance. _

_ Schlatt is- he's-  _

_ Wilbur goes cold and hard and there's an anger in his eyes and a shine on his glasses. _

_ The strings on his guitar are torn and he stands on top of the hill, a king-  _

**_"understanding your new position as king"_ ** _ , the off provides. _

_ They're not the same, never the same.  _

_ Wilbur is ever changing, evolving, one being of soot and thrashing waves, the aftertaste of rebellion. _

_ And Schlatt is angry.  _

_ Wilbur talks and talks until Schlatt bites into the golden apple and he stands on top of the fiery mountain raining destruction on his friends and-  _

_ Wilbur leaves.  _

_ Schlatt stays.  _

_ \---  _

_ There's a time where Schlatt tells a joke and Wilbur laughs and their laughter starts and fades out at the same time and they're so perfectly in sync that the universe holds its breath. _

\---

_ There's a time where it's them against the world, them against the universe - a force to be reckoned with, all alone yet feared by anyone who crossed their path. _

\---

_ There's a time where Schlatt holds the golden apple high into the sky and watches the world crumble into nothingness around him and Wilbur screams and Schlatt laughs until there's nothing left. _

\--- 

_ There's a time where Wilbur laughs when Schlatt dies and he kills Schlatt and laughs even more and it hurts but Schlatt pretends to laugh as well. _

\---

_ There's a time where Wilbur leads children into war. _

_ And there's a time where Schlatt intervenes. _

\---

Techno goes from farming potatoes to fighting wars in a far-off country of ice back to farming potatoes, only to find Wilbur on the doorstep of his old palace one day. 

He looks into Wilbur's eyes and sees the death of millions reflected back at him in a strange, muddled sorrow that has lost its cutting edge.

He decides to come with.

\--- 

What he doesn't expect is the hopelessness of it all - there's a ravine and a lot of void where there used to be noise.

Wilbur tells him about an election, and the name Schlatt rolls off his tongue like an old curse.

Techno knows Schlatt, from a distant competition filled with insane laughter and bloodthirst. They're not quite friends, not quite enemies, but the emptiness in Wilbur's eyes is as much of a void as the silence and Techno can't bear to see his friends like that.

Schlatt has to be the enemy, he decides.

It takes him a few hours to realize Tommy is there as well.

There's no grandeur about him anymore - the greyscale of death and clacking of bones fill the silence between them as Techno watches the boy he once knew settle into a fate he never should've had to experience.

He's grown quiet as well.

A different kind from Will - resignation against desperation, lethargy faced with the need to act - and Techno ruffles Tommy's hair like he always used to do but Tommy doesn't shout back a biting insult, so it's not quite the same. 

\--- 

Techno builds a farm and earns the trust of two friends turned strangers slowly.

He asks Tommy about the disks and learns about L'Manberg and Tubbo and Sapnap (who's not that pleasant, apparently). Tommy learns to live with what they've got faster than Wilbur, and within a few days he shouts playful insults at Techno from across the potato fields.

They farm and train and Tommy laughs and it's almost normal.

Wilbur asks him about Phil, one night. Techno tells him about a void created by sheer dedication and palaces of marvel carved into its nothingness. He tells Wilbur Phil is happy.

Wilbur tells him about independence and betrayal and the feeling of water flooding your lungs.

There's a craze in his eyes when he talks about L'Manberg, an aching thing turned dangerous at the mention of an old friend, a tsunami festering in the distance.

He doesn't care for food or training.

The walls in his room are plastered with plans to get their land back, to- 

Well, Techno isn't sure why they'd even want to go back to the place all their friends betrayed them for.

But the desperation in the way Tommy holds his training sword does make him wonder.

\--- 

Wilbur calls a meeting one late Thursday evening, in a little hidden part of the ravine.

He looks worse. 

There are dark circles under his eyes and his hands shake when he tries to light the fire again.

"Technoblade", he says, carefully blank, "You need to train us. We- We're- There's no way we can beat them like this. Anything you need will be done." 

Tommy looks at him expectantly, as if there was some sort of master plan they were expecting him to reveal.

"Well uh- Sure, I'll train you. Would be nice if we had a barracks or something, the ravine is lookin' a little too dangerous for serious trainin'." 

Wilbur stands, a marionette pulled up by string.

"You heard him Tommy. We need barracks." 

Wilbur rushes out of the room before either of them can speak again.

\--- 

The barracks are constructed within a few days.

Tommy looks exhausted.

\--- 

Techno twirls the wooden axe in one hand and holds his shield with the other.

Across from him, Tommy gets into fighting stance, feet a little wider than the shoulders. 

Techno dives in without a second thought and Tommy stumbles back like a caged animal, fearful in its anger. 

The fight takes a little longer than a second before Techno points the axe at Tommy's throat and smiles, just ever so slightly. 

It seems like some things may never change.

"You're dead", he drawls. 

"I can see that Techno! God, you're so stupid sometimes… just tell me how to avoid whatever you just did!", there's no real venom in Tommy's voice and Techno cherishes this piece of the past wholeheartedly.

"Well, uh- Maybe actually focusin' on what I'm doing would help." 

Tommy is better when he focuses on Techno, and for a few seconds they dance around each other in perfect pirouettes of attack and parry. 

Something echoes through the ravine, the memory of noise.

Tommy turns at the sound.

"You're dead", Techno sighs, "Just try to stay a little more focused." 

Someone claps behind them slowly. 

Wilbur has seated himself one of the large boulders at the bottom of the ravine, lining their living area like gems a crown. They're all silent for a little while, taking each other in - Wilbur, disheveled and seemingly aged by centuries, the memory of a great ruler drowned by waves and Techno and Tommy, fiery and born from rage. 

"Hey Techno, care to fight me too?" 

Techno shrugs. 

"Sure." 

He tosses Wilbur the axe nonchalantly, and gets into position.

Wilbur fights with a desperation that Techno can hardly recognize. 

He attacks with ferocity and doesn't attempt to parry - there's only one axe swing after the other and the faint, fearful beating of a heart slowed by the cold. 

Techno strikes him once, twice, but Wilbur doesn't stop and there's a glint in his eyes that Techno wishes he could unsee and- 

"You're dead.", Techno says, axe pressed against his opponent's throat.

Wilbur laughs, once, and turns around to leave.

No one follows him.

\--- 

Tommy feels the cold night air wrap itself around himself, a dark reminder of the primal need to be hidden. 

Somewhere deep below the earth, Wilbur paces in his room, too wrapped up in thoughts of revenge to notice Tommy's aching absence. 

Techno farms potatoes.

(It feels like that's all he ever does.) 

And Tommy? 

Tommy trains and kills and feels the cold, smooth stone beneath his aching fingertips until they become bloodied too.

He's here only because of Wilbur and his unwavering faith in the ideals of a nation that now lies beneath the rubble of its own walls. 

It might be selfish.

It might be horrible and wrong.

But there's a loyalty running hot through Tommy's veins, and when Wilbur looks so close to shattering he knows he must be there to pick up the pieces. 

\--- 

Wilbur kicks at the ashes of his uniform.

Techno watches him from one of the many staircases, hanging precariously over the abyss. 

"Why are you really here", Wilbur spits. There's venom in his words and the darkness of a thousand words collapsing into each other in his eyes, memories of deaths too long gone to be mourned.

"You asked for my help, and I came.", Techno answers solemnly.

Beneath him, Wilbur scoffs. The golden buttons of his uniform glitter through the ash.

"The oh so famous Technoblade, came here only because I asked? Yeah, sure." 

Techno watches with the silence of a strategizer, diffusing the situation in his head a million ways. Yet underneath him, in the shadows and darkness of the ravine and swallowed by stone, stands Wilbur, headstrong, and angry and lost, a child playing war. 

He realizes that Wilbur will never really trust him. Will never takes his words for the truth. 

"What can I say? I'm an anarchist, overthrowin' democratically elected governments brings me unprecedented joy." 

Wilbur doesn't smile, not quite, but he doesn't bite back a poisonous reply either. 

Techno decides to count it as a win.

\--- 

Tommy counts the seconds carefully, feels their shape on his tongue and carefully forms his lips to make their sound.

At exactly 2:32 am, Tubbo stumbles into the clearing, suit a little too tight, hair a little too tidy and Tommy wants to rush to him and hold him and take him back to Pogtopia and- 

Tommy steps out into the clearing.

Tubbo smiles at him, a genuine, bright thing, and Tommy feels the world tilt on its axis again, drawing parallels to quiet afternoons spent in peaceful meadows.

"Tommy! You came!" 

Tommy nods. He feels a little shaky.

Tubbo looks like he wants to reach out to him, but they both are frozen to the spot, two worlds colliding in a forest, just barely outside any of their territories.

"Now, what do you need me for?", Tubbo asks, almost too eager for one of the tedious tasks Tommy is known to load off on him.

_ I just wanted to see you _ , lays heavy on his tongue, but, as Techno said, revolution waits for no man.

"I need you to be our…. man on the inside." 

Tubbo's eyes light up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had this whole thing for a "bad guy wilbur" au planned. well, i guess it's not an au anymore 😭


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebellion sparks in the chests of each citizen of Manberg - and Schlatt wonders, truly why they can't see that Wilbur had always used them.

> I will sing no requiem  
> Tonight  
> 'Cause when the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep  
> No one lights a candle to remember  
> No, no one mourns at all  
> When they lay them down to sleep
> 
> **Requiem, Dear Evan Hansen**

_ Tommy is just a bit younger when he meets Wilbur. _

_ There's the emptiness of a lost world and forgotten friends behind him and the uncertainty of a new life ahead; a certain moment of fragility before the storm passes. _

_ Wilbur smiles and takes his hand and pushes him into the middle of a war. _

_ And when the time comes to choose sides, he points a sword at Tommy's throat and laughs at the crushing feeling of betrayal turning Tommy's hurt into bitter tears. _

  
  
  


Schlatt doesn't think he's a bad president. 

Of course, no one in a position as high as this would call themselves incapable, but he's still doing a pretty decent job, he thinks. 

A better one than Wilbur, at least.

Wilbur, with his promises of greatness and freedom, Wilbur with lies spilling from his lips, honeycombed and sugar coated. 

And Schlatt knows that Wilbur has always been a liar, has always betrayed and ran away, has always left his friends to die on hilltops overshadowed by rising water and empty lava buckets.

Schlatt tears L'Manberg apart and hopes Wilbur can feel it burn.

He lets the walls be torn down by its former inhabitants, watches the pained expression on their faces quietly and wonders why they can't see that Wilbur has always been the bad guy.

Why they can't see that they've been used, that Wilbur had only ever cared about what good they did him, that he never really loved them.

Schlatt opens the borders and makes freedom something as palpable as the grass finally regrowing beneath their feet, freed from the oppression of the walls.

He forms Manberg into a place of liberty and happiness.

He isn't a bad ruler.

Can't be.

So why, Schlatt wonders, will no one look him in the eye? Why won't they straighten up in their suits, why won't they raise their voice? 

Something's amiss, and Schlatt is determined to find out what

  
  


I.

Niki is, at her core, a revolutionary. She isn't there for the first war and doesn't carry the same knowing weight each member of L'Manberg feels when the nights get dark. But she fights against the nightmares and the terrors with an unrivalled kindness and an abundance of pastries, laughs with a ferocity that pulls the comforting warmth of the sun in and builds their battlefields up to be homes.

There's a fire in Niki that refuses to be extinguished - it shows in the kindness of her smiles and the caring words she comforts her friends with. It shows in her passions and projects and in the way she speaks, angelic and hellbent on dreaming on.

It shows the moment Schlatt becomes president.

Niki doesn't scream, then, doesn't shed a single tear during the death of the single thing she ever got to fight for - she only stares on, rage melting her eyes into something more dangerous than any weapon, ever so determined and strong in her beliefs.

In that moment, she swears to fight.

Schlatt gets to know her as a quiet woman, rarely smiling. But her spirit remains that of a fighter and the need to resist radiates off her in thick waves. She loves Tommy and Wilbur with the same compassion she loves baking and L'Manberg and the moments just before sunshine, where day and night gently embrace. She hums L'Manberg's anthem and bakes her contempt into every loaf of bread she has to deliver to the White House. 

But Schlatt has met his fair deal of fighters, of people with fire in their eyes and compassion in their hearts and he knows how easily they break.

It's with a smile on his lips that he raises her taxes and lets her escape become her prison; she works now, day and night, because what use could she be for the resistance if she were to get executed? 

Sometimes, Schlatt makes sure to remind her that Wilbur left her here, all alone in the thrashing ocean of change that her leader had always feared.

Her suit arrives on the doorsteps of her bakery, and she wears it with empty eyes. 

II.

Eret is a traitor. Schlatt knows this, from Tommy's babbling before the election, Eret was a traitor to L'Manberg and he would always remain as such. 

Curiously, the man is also a king. The treacherous king of a country with no people - crowned in gold against the emptiness of lost companionship.

He rules only over himself in his castle of glass, cracking apart a little more everyday.

Eret looks confident in his stride, in the sunglasses and the regal attire, comfortable in his loneliness - a traitor only to himself during those times.

Lie until you make yourself believe, laugh until you feel happy, is the world nothing but make-pretend? 

Behind golden crowns and thrones, heavy red cloaks and rooms buried beneath the ground, there is a man who is in a way fundamentally lonely, lost in a world built by himself, desperate to escape a fate accepted years ago.

He wishes for redemption as a dying man in the desert wishes for water, knowing that without it he'd die, grasping for a salvation forever out of reach.

Eret wanders the emptiness of his world with a quiet desperation buried deep beneath layers of false personas, cracking at the seems. He wonders often if things had been different if there had been no betrayal, no  _ Final Control Room _ , no breathy laugh and remember that it was never, never meant to be.

When he asks Niki, she reassures him that there wasn't anything to worry about, but she has grown tired; lifeless even, with the flame in her eyes flickering with nothing left to feed on.

Eret doesn't ask her about it again.

And Schlatt, he knows what Eret wants, what he needs with such ferocity that it shreds him to pieces: forgiveness. Redemption.

But Wilbur will never give it, so Schlatt invites Eret back to Manberg with the promise of belonging.

The suit is delivered to his castle.

Eret wears it with a pride he could never wear his crown with.

III.

There's the thing about Fundy-

He's uncontrollable, manic as bursts of electricity shooting through endless redstone contraptions, a disaster waiting to happen, TNT about to explode.

He's fierce and loyal and the memory of getting underestimated haunts his veins like a curse.

He's-

Well,

Lost. 

A child torn from his home, scorched fur and billowing smoke, reminders of a past buried atop a hill, single diamond block decorations and swallowing sadness.

Fundy's manic, one being of restless energy and thousand lines of code being rewritten every second - he yells and bites and wipes the blood out of his face without thinking twice.

He runs against his father without second thought and becomes obsessed with the thought of tearing him down, leaving him to rot along with the rest of the awful past.

Because his father never cared, never will because there's always bigger things, always better people than Fundy and he's never quite enough, never quite reaches the expectations, falls short time and time again and bruises harder with every fall.

And when Schlatt becomes president, he howls a laugh into the sky that shakes the earth beneath him.

The father betrays the child, the child betrays the father, what difference does it make? 

All Schlatt knows is that Fundy tears through his old country's walls with vigour, and he sets the flag aflame with laughter on his lips and a glint of insanity in his eyes.

And yet.

Fundy still wishes for acknowledgement, for love. Things Wilbur will never give.

So Schlatt promotes him, tells him he is doing wonderfully every chance he gets, makes weaknesses into strengths.

Fundy wears the suit without second thought, carves a silent threat into the sleeves and when Schlatt asks what his relation to Wilbur is, he answers a cutting

"Nothing." 

IV.

Quackity is an ambitious man. Ambitious enough for Schlatt to admire him, and reckless enough for Schlatt to never really trust him.

He seems easy - easily pleased, easily humoured, easy to trust and easy to forgive.

He jokes and laughs and wins the hearts of nearly every Manberg citizen with a sort of practiced ease and faux kindness.

Because Quackity isn't easy, isn't laughable, isn't a joke. He dreams of power and blood and a country without dictatorship.

He carves his name into history vigorously and with a hunger to be known and never forgotten. 

There's no one he trusts besides himself and the darkness of nightfall and when Schlatt calls him stupid he plays the part until everyone fails to notice the cunning gleam in his eye and the way his hands always move slightly too fast.

Because when Quackity wants something, he gets it.

And right now, he wants to see the White House burn.

Pooling his votes with Schlatt was not done out of kindness, but a need to be in power and when Schlatt fails to provide his part of the agreement, his blood turns burning hot.

Anger boils and burns and scorches, but Quackity hides it behind jokes and easy smiles until his skin itches with the need to act. 

Schlatt will never understand his vice, will never see the resentment in his eyes or the curious plotting happening just out of sight.

Quackity wears his suit with a muted proudness, because it means Schlatt hasn't figured him out just yet.

V.

Tubbo's has always seemed easy to read. He's young and sort of timid in the self-conscious way most teenagers are. He's patient and kind and blossoms in nature or when building.

He's creative and chaotic and laughs with the light of a thousand stars illuminating his smile.

He's passionate and young and so, so terribly scared.

When Schlatt is elected, he grieves. He grieves for Tommy and L'Manberg and the careful happiness they had built themselves, after a war of betrayal and the loss of innocence.

But then Tommy comes to him with the proposal of being a spy and he knows he must be strong once again.

He isn't stupid - he knows he's only Schlatt's right hand man because it will dampen Pogtopia's spirits, not because he's very capable.

He knows Schlatt is only nice to him as to anger Tommy.

And yet, when Tubbo watches Niki deteriorate into a lifeless thing, bone deep exhaustion pulling at her, when he watches Fundy burn the flag and laugh, when he looks on as Eret trades his cape for a suit, he knows he must be strong. Strong, for all they had built. Strong, for Wilbur and Tommy deep in a cave somewhere, hidden by darkness and cold. Strong for Niki, losing herself more with each day. Strong for Eret, friend made enemy. Strong for Fundy, alone in his misguided attempts at recognition. Strong for Quackity, hands shaking with rage at Schlatt's speeches.

And he knows that Schlatt is doing Manberg good, but there's more to happiness than just democracy - happiness is Tommy and him in a flower field surrounded by bees listening to Mellohi. Happiness is Wilbur playing his guitar and Niki softly singing along, the flames of the campfire illuminating their smiling faces.

Happiness is his family, and Schlatt had taken it from him.

So he steels his face and buries his old self somewhere in the emptiness of Tommy's old house, alone in the darkness he's always feared.

He spies and he lies and he doesn't let himself cry for all that he's lost.

Schlatt makes him wear a suit from day one, and when he announces a festival, Tubbo knows he's decorating his grave.

\---

Schlatt opens the borders and builds the land up. Schlatt lowers the taxes and welcomes everyone into their great nation. 

And no, he isn't a bad ruler at all - the world flocks to his greatness and carefully crafted words, revised and rewritten and never spoken without thinking. 

But still, he sees the sign of rebellion in his people and can only quietly wonder why they resent him.

\--- 

And in a cave far away, Wilbur shouts at the walls that everyone he has ever trusted is a traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE 😭  
> i've been super busy with schoolwork lately, and i've also had to write three exams in my main subjects so. I've been busy.
> 
> i vomited this chapter out in about one and a half hours so i'm terribly sorry if it's bad, i just felt like i just had to post something!
> 
> the last chapter should be out soon tho! it's already 70% over, so keep your eyes peeled :D
> 
> also sorry for posting the same chapter twice - i just recently noticed and immediately deleted it. sorry for the confusion,,, and there was also this one person who wrote a super nice comment so sorry to you as well for just deleting the chapter 😭 i really appreciated the comment!! 
> 
> please comment. Please Comment. i live off of comments. Please. /hj


	4. chess pawn requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rise and fall of Wilbur Soot, categorized by betrayals, and the pressing of a button.

> _The trails on your skin spoke more to me than the reams and reams of_   
>  _The half finished novels you'd leave lying around all over the place_   
>  _And every quotation that'd dribbled from_   
>  _Your mouth like a final, fatal livejournal entry_   
>  _I know_   
>  _I am wrong_   
>  _I am sorry_
> 
> **-Los Campesinos!, This Is How You Spell "Hahaha, We Destroyed The Hopes And Dreams Of A Generation Of Faux-Romantics"**

_Techno joins Phil, up one of the balconies overlooking the Antarctic._

_"Is there anything we can do?"_

_Phil shakes his head._

_The clouds above them open up, and tiny snowflakes begin their last dance, a ballet leading up to their death._

_Phil catches one with his hand and lets it melt on his index finger._

_"Sometimes, when history unfolds before your eyes, all you can do is remember it and hope it can serve as a cautionary tale. There's a reason they call me Watcher, Techno.", he sighs. "Too much power corrupts people, no matter who they are."_

_Techno nods._

_He leaves Phil behind with the feeling of apprehension burning on his heels._

\--- 

Wilbur is still young when he meets Schlatt.

They don't get along very well at the start.

Wilbur, who's just tumbled out of Phil's world, sheltered and still fresh to the horrors of the world, and Schlatt, who laughs at the cruelty of an existence that seems pointless.

They part ways with the aftertaste of hatred on their lips.

\--- 

SMPLive comes around and Wilbur, if he's being honest, only joins because Carson asked him too, and the prospect of socialising isn't too appalling. 

SMPLive turns out to be nothing short of horrifyingly chaotic. Wilbur thrives in the atmosphere of people living on nothing but laughter and the adrenaline of causing mischief. He laughs when he sets up his "Whale Facts" store, and continues to laugh when Schlatt puts him in something he calls the "cuck shed", feels the gratification of building a home and lets himself be a different version of himself each day, nothing carved in stone yet.

He makes friends and laughs with them and pranks them and relishes in the lighthearted banter.

He stumbles into traps made to kill and pretends he doesn't notice.

All good things come to an end though, eventually, and when the last night has come, Schlatt joins Wilbur on top of his tower and they talk. It's a quiet, genuine conversation, witnessed by only the stars and the memory of a gentle breeze.

They part ways with the sickly sweet memory of a friendship that has met its end on their lips.

\---

The water rises.

Wilbur and Schlatt sit in their little cabin and watch as the water presses against their windows and the world goes quiet. Neither of them have anything to say to each other.

Schlatt watches Wilbur leave.

The water rises some more.

Wilbur builds a little log cabin high up in the air, above thrashing waters and the memory of a friend, left behind in the waves. He doesn't have any more ressources. Beneath him, the ocean swallows the sun.

The water rises some more.

Schlatt screams at him, from the bottom of his little platform, and Wilbur watches him with a vague interest. His suit is wet. It looks heavy. Wilbur thinks that if Schlatt were to fall back into the water, it would drag him down to the bottom of the ocean to be swallowed. 

The water rises some more.

Wilbur and Schlatt stand on the last bit of land. Behind them, the sea fights against itself, salty water biting at their feet like memories of a half-forgotten past. 

Wilbur turns to reach for Schlatt.

And Schlatt, with a carefully dangerous emptiness in his eyes, pushes Wilbur off the cliff.

Only one of them leaves, with the emptiness of a useless victory on his lips.

\---

The ocean is not to be tamed, a wild, animalistic thing, thrashing against its restraints.

Its waves haunt Wilbur's veins, all salty water bringing the memory of stinging tears and empty echoes resounding in the conch shell of his heart. 

The ocean swallows him just to spit him back out with an empty fury in his eyes. 

Lava is a slow, furious thing, destroying whatever dares stand in its way.

Schlatt has the vivacity of an all-consuming fire in his eyes and the burning anger of a volcano in his voice, the haunting call of a disaster buried by the sand of times. 

The lava burns through his veins, quick to anger and hard to control, an explosive thing on the brink of going off.

The lava smothers him in its heat and he refuses to die.

Yet the lava rises.

Wilbur and Schlatt start out together, in a tiny world that threatens to be their demise. They build a house. The lava burns their wooden hut down with practiced ease. 

Wilbur watches Schlatt leave.

The lava rises more.

There's a tower, reaching for the sky and the lava melts the soles of his shoes and Wilbur stares into the sky with a despondency unique to someone belonging in the heavens, yet drowning in tidal waves of salty water and hot regret.

Schlatt screams something victorious down at him, and Wilbur thinks, _Genesis._

 _Come, let us build ourselves a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.,_ the verse reads - and the lava rises some more.

Wilbur climbs up the tower, with a desperation unique to someone betrayed time and time again and yet choosing to trust once again. Schlatt looks mad. For the first time in his life, Wilbur thinks he truly doesn't care.

The lava rises some more.

Schlatt swings the bucket around a little too aimlessly, and some of the lava sloshes over the edge and- 

Wilbur really wants to think it's a mistake.

But there's something calculated in Schlatt's eyes when he studies the positioning of Wilbur's hands, something strategic about his aimlessness. 

The lava hits Wilbur's hand.

He loses his grip on the tower. 

The lava doesn't rise anymore.

One of them leaves with the bitter memory of a ghost haunting his lips. 

\---

Wilbur stumbles and falls and catches himself on a single piece of bedrock, floating in the void.

The sky is one immense, vast thing surrounding him from all sides, and its emptiness catches onto his heart and squeezes it tight.

He's alone. All alone, really, a single piece of existence known to be his world, in the nothingness of his thoughts. 

So Wilbur starts talking. It's the one thing he knows how to do; he talks while building his little island and continues on talking throughout the entirety of the night. The cold, uncaring blocks the heavens drop down for him never answer. 

One day, he wakes up and there's a bucket in front of him. In it swims a little fish, oblivious to its damnation, trapped forever in a place where there's no oceans yet still optimistically swimming in circles.

When it dies, Wilbur continues on talking. His voice quivers but he forces himself to go on.

_-and the rubble of SMPLive burns hot in his mind, the memory of a death caused by him and the ash of a past lifetime carrying the stench of lost hope-_

New Milo doesn't know about his ancestor. He is as oblivious as the clouds above or the nothingness around, or Wilbur forgetting what the purpose of talking was in the first place. 

He watches New Milo in his aquarium, a modern day aqueduct, a single platform of existence which is the world, and its inhabitants both trapped by their own limits.

Sometimes, Wilbur wonders if New Milo is happy.

Sometimes, he wonders if there's anything else in this world.

Sometimes, he remembers the fury of red eyes burning with hate like the magma of a troubled volcano.

The island grows bigger and its inhabitants grow in numbers and Wilbur talks to them until he forgets what words mean and he realizes that this is all there is.

He kills some of them, because isn't he the god in this world? Who shall decide who deserves to live if not him? 

The Sky Gods make a mistake one day. They send him something that lets him leave. But Wilbur only has one wish left.

The ocean is a boundless thing, resting calm in the audience of a dying sun, turning the waves a mesmerizing red.

Wilbur holds New Milo in his bucket above the water.

He tells New Milo about their singular block of existence, their reality as millions of other worlds collapse into each other to create the void that was theirs. 

He tells him he was wrong; that there is more to the universe than blocks in single-file and one single piece of bedrock existence. 

He lets Milo go.

And the waves carry them both away.

\---

Wilbur falls from the skies right into SMPEarth - a server everyone tells him he's created, but he can't quite remember.

There's the fog of a new life tearing at his brain, and the hope of a new beginning blooming in his chest, so Wilbur doesn't really mind either.

Techno and Phil are there too, and it almost feels like he's never left, if it weren't for the strange unfamiliarity clouding their eyes when they look at him. Wilbur wonders if they can see the scars of a thousand betrayals left behind, or the crater of volcanic stone where his heart used to be. Or if maybe, they just see a stranger in place of a friend. 

They go to war. It doesn't really matter.

He meets Tommy. He can't quite remember. 

Until Tommy comes to him, one early morning, all alone, asking for an alliance.

And Wilbur, knowing he will betray this child the first chance he gets, agrees.

The Battle of The Bridges comes around.

Wilbur stands on Techno's side, victorious at last, and cherishes the way Tommy's face falls when he realizes that he's been betrayed.

The glorious aftertaste of victory never quite leaves his lips, even when Phil kills his dog and Newfoundland crumbles away beneath his fingertips.

\--- 

He remembers feeling cold, and the static drumming of anxiety riddled songs don't leave his conscious for a while after.

He edits. 

He dies.

\---

There's a time where Wilbur is a king, a god, and he reigns over his subjects with an iron fist.

They are blind and scared and oh so small under the iron sole of his shoe, killed and revived just to be killed again.

He laughs when he blinds them, laughs when he starves them, laughs when he sends them out to kill their friends. 

No mercy, he thinks, no mercy.

They bury themselves in the ground and he pours lava over them just to watch them burn.

And when the last of them, pathetic and broken, frees itself from the dirt, Wilbur kills him with a single shot. 

\---

Tommy invites him to join Dream SMP and Wilbur joins only because he's bored, and crushing mindless insects under his foot has become boring. 

Being around people does him good, he thinks, and he builds a little house under a mountain just to watch it get destroyed. Something in him snaps

Dream SMP is chaotic at best and completely nonsensical at worst.

Wilbur prepares for something much greater. 

Tommy and Tubbo are the first to join him, of course, the children have always flocked to his stories the easiest - if you make greatness seem like something tangible, almost anyone can be convinced. But children, with their boundless enthusiasm and unwavering faith in their role models, they don't notice the hypocrisy of Wilbur's words as easily.

He sees the opportunity to paint someone else as the villain and takes it.

He talks about the injustices of Dream, of how their king is a tyrant, about laws no one took seriously and meaningless wars fought between friends, described to be bloody battles. He tints the world of this SMP a bloody red, the memory of a day so many lifetimes ago where there was another SMP, another war.

They're all figures on the chessboard, but Wilbur is the king.

So he moves his pawns across the field, let's them fight his battles and laughs in the face of god when their nation takes its first, blood-riddled breaths.

Eret's betrayal means nothing to him. If anything, it had been an obvious thing, another casualty of a war fought for nothing but amusement. 

L'Manberg rises out of the ashes of TNT and the bitter aftertaste of betrayal. Wilbur feels content, maybe.

\--- 

And when Schlatt comes along to tear it out from under his hands, 

He shatters.

\---

They're hiding in the tunnel, the one that connects Manberg and Pogtopia, Wilbur and Tommy.

Just beyond the grey stone walls, Wilbur can hear Schlatt's footsteps, a stark, abstruse sound in the otherwise quiet tunnel system.

He walks with a sort of brisk speed, as if there was some important business to attend to here.

As if he owned the place, Wilbur thinks with little attempt to hide his disgust. 

Tubbo meets him right in front of their haphazardly blocked off hiding place - eager footsteps restrained by shining black leather boots.

"Schlatt, sir", he says quickly, "What are you doing here?"

Schlatt stops, and Wilbur can picture the sly grin on his face, the full-of-himself aura and- 

"Well, Tubbo, I could ask you the very same thing!"

Schlatt laughs, the same loud, horrible thing as before and Wilbur watches Tommy go rigid beside him.

And as he listens to Tubbo make some vague excuses, Wilbur realizes, he hates both of them; Tubbo with his constant string of agreements never daring to even do as much as utter anything else but a defeated "yes" and Schlatt with his cocky grin and perfectly ironed suit, looking at Manberg as if it was filth under his polished shoes.

Wilbur feels so, so cold.

And he thinks he wants to see them burn.

\---

The flint and steel weighs heavy in his hands.

Tommy regards it with a new kind of fear, morphed and muted and distant all at once, like the memory of independence.

\---

Wilbur looks at Tommy and the fallen innocence of a child turned adult reflects back at him, flayed open like a vivisection.

Wilbur feels- he- 

There's- 

It's so cold.

It's so fucking cold. 

He feels like laughing and tearing his eyes out so he won't have to see the misery of what he's created for a second longer.

"We're the bad guys! Don't you get it, Tommy? We've always been the fucking bad guys! You and I, the outcasts. What, did you think we were kind of some underdogs?"

Wilbur doubles over, tears in his eyes and the memory of bile at the back of his throat. His throat feels scratchy and raw when he laughs, an unhinged thing, sung back to him by birds.

"We're the bad guys! We always have been! Get over it! Schlatt was the best thing that could ever happen to Manberg! And that's why I have to tear it down! You understand that Tommy, don't you?" 

"No- I- Wilbur, you can't just blow up L'Manberg! It's still not too late to get it back or- I don't know, but there must be something we can do!" 

Wilbur smiles. It's an empty thing, eyes clouded by the insanity of a man who's lost everything.

"You know, Tommy, when I told you you'd never be president, I was serious. And you know why I can tell? I can see it in your eyes, Tommy, I can hear it in the way you speak, as if you knew what is going on. No one knows what's going on! Get over it! There's no master plan, we're all fucking clueless! You're scared, Tommy. You're scared." 

And when Tommy turns away from him and flees into the forest, Wilbur feels nothing at all.

\--- 

"Wilbur.", Techno says.

His face remains perfectly blank.

"Some of us still love you, y'know?"

Wilbur laughs. There's the itch of tears at the edges of his eyes and the tilt of insanity tinting his words an ugly juxtaposition of colours. 

The flashing red of a piece of TNT about to be lit, the glint on the trigger of a gun one late evening on a shaky path, the deep blue of an ocean that never stopped rising and the deep dark magma of lava spilling over the edge of one's eyes, tearing apart skin and landscapes and the endlessness of friendship.

"I know you're all lying to me!", Wilbur laughs, "Tubbo, Eret, Niki, you- Everyone's who's pretending to help me, you're all secretly betraying me! I mean, who could blame you? You jumped ship as soon as you knew my side wasn't going to win this. You've always liked to win, Technoblade, and you've never had any real loyalty to me." 

Techno doesn't reach out to slap him. He doesn't even raise his voice. But there's a deep disappointment in his eyes, a hurt so monumental Wilbur, somewhere in the depths of his insanity, feels it pull at his heart. 

Techno goes back to his potato farm without another word. 

Wilbur watches him distantly.

There's no words left to be said.

Two brothers, torn apart by war, leave to fight for different sides.

It's a real tragedy.

Wilbur finds he doesn't care.

\---

The cold wraps itself around him in the same familiar way, with the echo of anxious songs and ripped guitar strings.

It crowns him in freezing silver against the dull stones, freezes the tips of his hair and his coat, down near the end where it's frayed by rocks and twigs. 

Wilbur shakes it off almost as easily as it comes. 

He walks a little faster. 

Icy fingers snake over his wrists like frozen droplets of blood, pinning him in place like iron prison bars and the feeling of joints, frozen in place. 

"Are you feeling a little cold, Wilbur?", something echoes behind him. 

The Editor emerges a smiling, unnatural looking thing - all crooked bones and too many teeth, shivers racking his body. 

"It's so cold down here...", it laments with a sickly sweet smile, blackened fingertips unfeeling as they press against the stone walls. 

A single, discordant song hangs heavy in the air. 

"Why are you here?", Wilbur asks desperately. His fingers find their way into his locks, curling and uncurling in the mess atop his head, pushing and pulling because this can't be real, can't be happening, can't- 

"It's cold here, Wilbur. So, so freezing. Aren't you tired of being cold? And you're getting colder!", it chirps happily, warped arms wrapped around its middle in mockery of a hug. "And wherever it's cold, I will go." 

It stands, impossibly long-legged, across from Wilbur and distantly, he recognizes the insanity in its eyes from his own, reflecting in parallels. He can feel the insanity pouring from it in waves, and wonders when his aura came to match The Editor's. 

There's little questions to be asked to a past version of yourself, swallowed by the buried and spat out again by cold; none that could be uttered in the darkness of the ravine either way. Wilbur looks in his own eyes, glossy and unseeing from a death far away, and recognizes the song of his own legacy sang back to him. 

"What are you" 

It isn't a question, not something to be answered - a silent plea, to the heavens above. One last begging call for salvation before the great flood. 

"Hunger. But it would be more easy to call us... Dissatisfaction. The itch in your bones, engraved in your very soul - the need to fulfill your desires. I am that. And you need me, don't you? You can feel it! The desperation clawing at you, the coldness of being alone yet again. Let me take over, and your problems will be solved. After all, it's nice when things end with a bow on top, isn't it?" 

And it's so, so damn cold.

Wilbur thinks of Niki and L'Manberg and memories of a glowing childhood, eternally happy times left in the past and his skin itches with a sudden heat, foreign to the world. A sudden, boiling thing - the forecast of an unstoppable rage. 

"You're dead.", he spits at The Editor's towering form, and laughs at its desperate scrambling away from the suffocating heat. 

There's no time for remnants of the past. 

The cold evaporates and Wilbur laughs until his lungs choke on empty air, one being of fire lighting the fuse.

Manberg will go down in flames.

\---

Wilbur thinks he might've been scared of Dream once.

Of the emotionless mask and watching eyes, always near and always hearing, watching and knowing even the most horrible, dark secret.

Now it just feels distant, like a memory observed through stained glass, tinted a million different colours that can't be placed.

Wilbur thinks he might've once lamented his loss of emotion, another piece lost to the puzzle of who he was, but now- 

Now the fire consumes all.

So he invites Dream to Pogtopia, with the promise of destruction sweetly lacing every curved letter on the old paper.

Dream does come, a flourish of green and silence, the dangerous glint of someone who knows all in his unseeing black eyes.

He inclines his head- 

_(from one king to another)_

-and waits for Wilbur to speak.

And Wilbur, hasn't he always known what to say, how to sway people in his favour, isn't he a wordsmith, an actor following the script he wrote himself? 

He laughs in Dream's face and tells him he wants to reduce Manberg to rubble with a haunting emptiness in his eyes and fire in his voice.

When Dream raises his voice, he squashes his lies with an iron fist because yes, this has made him ambitious and yes, he hates and hates and hates with such a burning passion that it will consume all, and yes, there will be nothing of Manberg left.

Dream, eventually, shakes his hand and hands over sticks and sticks of TNT, glowing red even in the dim light.

He looks almost scared, the fallen ruler of the Dream SMP, and Wilbur relishes in the feeling of being feared.

(And from the top of the ravine, the remnants of innocent blue eyes watch their brother fall apart.) 

\---

Tommy is one mess of conflicting emotions - the familiar ting of sadness and the coppery smell of anger mix into one, single disappointing grey as he watches Wilbur and Dream at the bottom of the ravine.

He feels- 

Well, a shifting mass of nothing, heavy and laced with desperation, somewhere deep within his gut.

He doesn't think twice.

"Put that TNT down, Wilbur." 

Distantly, Tommy thinks that he can't remember pulling out his crossbow or getting to the bottom of the ravine at all.

(He also can't remember what Wilbur used to look like, without the crazed expression in his eyes. He can't remember what his smile used to look like.) 

But Dream steps right in front of him with some joking quip about "having to intervene" and Tommy feels so, so sick of being ignored and made fun of and the grey mass churns and turns a bloody red and he's so, so angry- 

Tommy blinks. Wilbur is holding his nose.

A single droplet of blood hits the cave floor.

And he runs.

\---

"Wilbur", Phil says. 

Wilbur doesn't turn to look at him.

"Wilbur, it's nice to see you again." 

He can tell Phil is smiling just by the lilt of his voice, and Wilbur despises the familiar intimacy of it. 

"Don't lie.", he hisses. 

Phil sighs, behind him and a hundred worlds away. Wilbur imagines him taking his hat off to push his hair out of his eyes, as he's prone to doing when Tommy is being particularly annoying. 

He imagines Phil reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder and- 

"You don't need to do this, Wilbur. It's fine, really. It's never too late to change." 

Wilbur scoffs. The ravine turns a colder shade of blue as he thinks of his friends and their countless betrayals, the look in Techno's eyes and Tommy's hopeless naivety, Niki and her hardened resolve and Fundy with a torch in hand. 

He thinks of Phil in a far-off world without elections and walls. 

"You don't get it", he replies flatly.

There's a small pause.

Static crackles through Wilbur's mind. 

"You _can't_ get it, dad, because you weren't there! You weren't here when Tommy was shot or when Dream blew our land up under us! You refused to come, to help me, you refused to take care of me! You failed me, _Phil,_ and now you try and preach your morals to me when in reality you're worse than anyone here, because you _left_ us, you left us all to rot. So no, you can't get it. You wouldn't be able to. And you know what? I don't even care about what you think." 

Wilbur breathes heavily. 

He almost wants to turn around to see the shocked, inconsolable look on Phil's face - to see the terror and the grief of what his son has become finally hitting him. 

"I still love you, you know?", Phil says instead.

Wilbur laughs, and his bones ache under the weight of his shaking body, torn between the endless heat of a raging fire and the coldness of a ravine left to him alone. 

He thinks of Tommy turning from him with fear and anger and disappointment and hopelessness and despair in his eyes and lets himself crumble.

"It will pass", he chokes out. 

And if he imagines Phil hugging him, and Techno and Tommy laughing while they all sit around the kitchen table and him playing a song and Tommy telling some exaggerated story about his day and Phil smiling and playfully mocking Tommy then nobody would ever know. 

Wishes of fondness lighten his match and shorten the fuse on the bombs. 

Phil makes a sort of strangled sound behind him and Wilbur turns finally, and there he is-

A projection on the cave wall, distorted by the jutting edges of rocks. 

"After everything, it's still you.", Phil's voice breaks.

His dad is crying. Wilbur looks at him, shadows of charcoal and the memory of love smeared under his eyes and the resentment of a thousand years carving the lines of his face into something dangerous. 

After everything, it's still him?

Wilbur is not the same, never the same, as long as the tides keep coming and the ocean keeps on roaring he will change, unpredictable as the incoming flood.

(And in a rotten memory, an orange sweater gets carried away by the thrashing waves.) 

After everything, it's never him.

Wilbur throws his communicator against the wall.

The image of Phil shatters into a million pieces. 

And he feels the fire consume him.

\---

Planting the TNT is harrowingly easy.

Nobody notices him, or the faint smell of gunpowder coming from somewhere far within the earth.

Sometimes, Wilbur likes to think that they simply cannot see him at all - that he's as forgotten as the feeling of sunlight on his skin, or the warmth of laughter in a dizzying memory.

The stage looks pretty. 

Wilbur almost wants to congratulate Tubbo for his craftsmanship, before remembering that he's a traitor.

Well, it doesn't quite matter.

Because soon, there will be nothing left at all.

\---

Tommy wonders when Tubbo became so serious.

He looks older in the black suit, a little more foreign with every shift of fabric, hair neatly combed and eyes pleasantly vacant.

When he laughs it's with the practiced faux-happiness of a businessman, all empty eyes and lips pulled back a bit too far, exposing rows of perfect teeth.

Tommy wonders when Tubbo grew up.

They met just outside the festival, on the outskirts of Manberg, by the remains of a burnt valley turned construction site.

Tommy thinks of sunsets and music disks and the feeling of happiness, burrowed somewhere deep within him, in a place he can't quite reach.

Tubbo thinks of bees and honeycombed laughter, somewhere in the abyss of memories he calls his heart.

They don't hug each other or even cry.

For a while, none of them even speak; they just watch each other, with a sudden apprehension so foreign to both of them that it makes them feel sick. 

"We should run away", Tommy eventually says.

The words hang heavy in the air between them.

Tubbo figs his leather boots into the dirt, one last effort to soil them and free himself.

"Yeah, that would be nice", he eventually says.

The air stands stagnant with the lack of friendly quips. 

"We could move to the sea, build a little house and-", Tommy thinks of Wilbur. Of Niki and Manberg and Techno, all fighting and bleeding and doomed to die. "And never come back." 

"There would be bees and flower gardens, and we'd listen to your music disks every morning.", Tubbo adds softly. 

(And somewhere else, Tommy takes Tubbo's hand and they run.) 

(But here, Tommy stands paralysed, unable to take what's left of his friend and pick up the pieces.) 

They're a millions worlds apart, split by the dirt on Tommy's face and Tubbo's freshly washed suit, all alone in their struggles, unable to touch.

"But I can't leave Wilbur behind", Tommy says. It feels like the truth.

And the illusion shatters. 

Somewhere far off, a microphone is turned on with a screech.

"I have to go", Tubbo says.

Tommy watches his shrinking form as he leaves, the perfectly ironed suit and stiff posture, and knows that _now,_ they'll never ever get away.

\---

Schlatt watches Wilbur for a second, in the dim lighting under the stage, the far-off sound of applause and joy overshadowed by the darkness in the eyes of someone he once called his friend.

"Do you remember that, Wilbur? Remember the lava and water rising challenges we did?" 

Wilbur flicks the lighter on.

"How could I forget? You betrayed me, time and time again!" 

There's the press of water against the back of his throat and the heat of lava pulling at his skin, one last call to remember who you are, who you were. What you could've been.

Schlatt smiles, no bared teeth and cocky sureness, but wavering hope, reminiscent of an evening centuries ago, on top of a tower overlooking a world long gone.

"I thought you knew I still cared, y'know? I thought it was all fun and games and that nobody would get hurt and I think I… I just failed to realize that I could hurt you.", Schlatt says, and there's an honesty in his voice that, just for a second, makes Wilbur stop in his tracks.

He switches the lighter off.

Above him, Tubbo walks onstage.

"I always thought you were perfect! And I realize that that mindset is flawed now, but you were also so kind, even though you caused just as much havoc as me, and I just wanted to be a little like you I think. And, uh, well, once I realized I couldn't do that I thought I had to best you in some way- All I want to say is I'm sorry, Wilbur. I'm sorry it had to come to this. And maybe, if you think you could do that, if my words still mean anything to you, maybe you could just stop this. You don't have to blow up Manberg. You don't have to do anything. I promise, no one will be mad." 

Wilbur smiles, a sad little thing, broken by the words of a world that never cared and friends who thought they could change that.

"I've rigged the entirety of Manberg. It's going to blow up in five minutes. Schlatt, there's nothing I can do. There's nothing you can do either. Maybe it was just meant to be this way. But, if you run now, you can make it far enough to survive." 

Schlatt stills. There's a restlessness in Wilbur's eyes, an all-consuming thing waiting to consume whatever remains.

"Promise me one thing, Schlatt.", Wilbur mutters quietly, "When this whole thing is over. Clean up the mess here, alright? Something beautiful should be able to grow out of the land we marked for our own someday." 

Schlatt nods.

_-and in a distant memory, he pushes Wilbur off a cliff, into the thrashing waves-_

As Tubbo starts his speech, Schlatt exits the bottom of the stage.

And he runs.

\--- 

Wilbur feels the TNT rattle the ground beneath him, sees the flames consume the stage and the caravan and everything they'd ever accomplished, gone with the wind carrying its ash. 

He feels the all-conquering emptiness of a useless victory and wonders if this is how Schlatt had felt, all those lifetimes ago, the weight of death heavy on his shoulders.

The world turns silent around him.

Wilbur catches glimpses of horror as he stalks through the flames - collapsed buildings and screaming and blood, all muted as if behind a glass wall. 

He knows his friends are trapped somewhere in the relentless inferno, getting consumed by an everlasting heat.

Wilbur wishes he could feel anything when thinking about their death.

But he is one with the Lonely, lines of unfeeling and coldness carved into his body deliberately, heart emptied of all but the continuous thumping against his ribcage, one body forever searching the heat of destruction.

And while Manberg burns hot in the unforgiving darkness of the night, Wilbur steps into the flames and feels at home for the first time in years.

\--- 

_the world turns._

_you try to breathe and the white static of nothingness fills your lungs - you try to scream, but you do not have a mouth._

_you have nothing at all, nothing but fifteen frantic trains of thoughts pressing down and the white pressing up-_

_-and somewhere, water rises steadily-_

_your vision morphs and warps, colourful bits of memories exploding into the whiteness around you, the aftertaste of a youth not cherished and a life not lived._

_then, you fall._

_through bursts of firework remembrance and words replayed by a grainy tape recorder, feeling guilty yet not knowing why, until you meet the ground._

_it feels soft under your disbelieving hands, grasping desperately at the soil that still remains and letting the pebbles dig bloody trenches into your palms; the single sensation of being alive._

_your hands are perfectly white and it strikes you as wrong; searching them over for marks of a fire you can't remember and the blackened fingertips displaying the unfeeling coldness of a place you cannot name brings nothing but scarless perfection._

_there's a man standing before you._

_he looks disappointed you think, yet you cannot understand why._

_he seems vaguely familiar, a silent knowing feeling haunting the edges of your frayed mind and paranoid periphery._

_his face is framed by blonde hair, glowing with an ethereal light in this nowhere, and his blue eyes find yours with muted worry._

_on his back, two gray wings stretch far into the twitching sky above._

_"where am i", you say distantly, feeling the shapes of the words on your tongue but not actually opening your mouth to speak them._

_he sighs. in his hand, a grey, hawk-like mask glows with a faint purple light._

_"this is the Nowhere", he admits eventually. "you're here because you… well, have nowhere to go."_

_you nod, but don't understand._

_having nowhere to go seems as familiar as blue eyes and grey wings do, in a twisted sort of way that can't be placed, only felt with an aching emptiness and seldom understanding._

_"why am i here?"_

_the sky flits from red to green to pink to orange and crumbles in on itself, burning pieces of paper falling from a slowly being eaten up sky._

_inferno. the word sits heavy on your tongue, yet you dare not speak it._

_"you've lost yourself", the man answers patiently. "and people who lose themselves go to the Nowhere."_

_around you, the word catches fire. in the distance, like a booming cannon, thunders the end of this realm._

_"where is schlatt?", you hear yourself ask._

_the man's eyes widen and his wings twitch with a sudden uncertainty._

_"why do you ask that?"_

_you think about that, for a bit. why did you ask? it feels like schlatt has always been there, at the bow of your adventures, facing the endless challenges with a smile and a biting quip on his lips. it seems only reasonable to ask for him. weren't you with him before the white came?_

_"we're friends, i think, and we did this challenge together and something must've gone wrong because i'm here now-"_

_"schlatt is fine", the man reassures you, yet his blue eyes still glow with worry._

_what he doesn't tell you is that schlatt, right now, isn't okay. he watches the sun rise over the ashes of a nation he once called his own, now nothing but a tomb for the people he may have once called his friends. he grieves, silently, for a thousand of could-be futures._

_you wonder how you knew that. you wonder if you were the one to cause that wreckage._

_"did i do that? blow that land up?", you wonder out loud._

_"yes, you did. that is where you lost yourself; why you're here."_

_the ground beneath you rumbles. you think of tnt and betrayals and walls and quiet songs around a dying campfire and a single golden coin flipped in the air, and, finally, the taste of destruction._

_and you remember._

_"phil.", you say. "phil, you're phil."_

_dad, the voice in your head provides but you wonder if you still have the privilege to call him that._

_he smiles at you shakily, eyes shadowed by the glossy promise of tears._

_"yeah, it's me, wilbur. you really got yourself in a mess now", he answers kindly._

_"what am i to do now?", you ask shakily, and all your hurt reflects back at you through six simple words, a single, fractured feeling hovering over your chest and pressing down._

_your father wraps his wings around, in memory of a childhood long left behind, and looks at you with the same caring fondness as before._

_and suddenly you understand that you are loved and wanted and cared for and the universe wraps around you lovingly not out of mockery but out of caring. and you understand that you are forgiven._

_"there's one thing i can do for you", phil says softly._

_and when he pushes you into the white, you can only catch the faintest of noise, a semblance of words, at the edge of the universe-_

_"try again."_

\--- 

Tommy's been living here as long as he can remember. His dirt shack stands proud at the end of the wooden pathway, and he likes to watch the sunrise in front of it. Sure, he doesn't have much-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so this series ends, with a bow on top ;) 
> 
> well, sad-ist uploaded her new animatic today and inspired me to actually finish this before school starts again, so that's cool! watch her video if u haven't yet, it's really great!
> 
> i just couldn't resist just... a little redemption for wilbur... just a little..m as a treat <3 i hope ur all ok with that! 
> 
> i also hope you all are happy with editor wilbur's appearances - he's supposed to be kind of the opposite of what wilbur has become in this story bc the new wilbur is obsessed with like,,, fire and explosions, which is kind of the opposite of cold? so i thought it'd be fun if they had a confrontation!!
> 
> i also hope you're all happy with how i tied this series together in the end, and are satisfied with this chapter :D
> 
> tell me ur opinions and such in the comments! every single comment makes me really happy, and i try to respond to all of them! 
> 
> anyways, thank you so much for reading, and expect more of me soon!

**Author's Note:**

> The Election of 1800.
> 
> Can we get back to politics (Please?).
> 
> Did I say I'm done with Dream SMP content? Well,,,, they just provide too much good material for me 😭  
> I think i might continue this when the situation clears up a bit, but I'm not sure. There's a half-au I have in mind for this, but....I'm rather well known for my stand alones at this point I think skgdhsks  
> This whole thing is basically just a throwback to the water rising story I wrote around this time last year, and I'm happy to say I feel like I've improved a lot!!  
> Especially in writing English, since my water rising story was in German lol  
> Anyways, let me know if you'd like me to make an au out of this?
> 
> Twitter: [honeydowo](https://twitter.com/honeydowo)
> 
> beta'ed by : [artemis](https://twitter.com/thearrowace_)


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